


Sparks Over Your Carpet While I Chase You Through the Night

by orphan_account



Series: Firework Eyes [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, accomplice!Derek, pyro!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-09 21:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>However, even after his mother is dead and gone, the obsession will never simply go out.</p><p>Sequel to <i>A Mother Tells Her Son, Darling Look at the Sparks</i> but can be read alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sparks Over Your Carpet While I Chase You Through the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chelsea](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Chelsea).



> And remember kids only you can prevent forest fires.

Stiles feels compromised when all the werewolf stuff starts to happen. He can't just _be alone_ anymore because everything is about _pack_ and he's apparently Scott's keeper or something because when he can't find Scott Derek comes to _him_ instead of just calling him or whatever.

He's got his special lighter burning in his pocket and a small back of kindle thrown over his shoulder and is about to go marching into his favorite spot of the forest—a place familiar and easy to find for him and him alone—when Derek just  _appears_ in front of him. Stiles can't stop his sneer and that probably doesn't help the fact that Derek wants to kill him.

“Where are you going?” Derek asks and it's just so unbelievably aggravating to Stiles.

“None of your business. I don't know where Scott is and I don't care, I just want to be _alone_.” And as he brushes past Derek, Stiles knows that this isn't who he is, not really. He isn't angry with people, he's not outright mean—he out _smarts_ them, sure, but never would he blatantly destroy someone or brush them off. He's a lover not a fighter.

But he doesn't let that affect them as he “sets up camp.”

)

“Dude, you aren't smoking, are you?”

Stiles jumps out of his skin even though he's been sitting beside Scott in study hall for over a half hour. It's the question that terrifies him.

“No?”

“That doesn't sound very convincing.”

“I'm not, I swear. I would never smoke.” Stiles rambles, “that's disgusting. You _do_ remember how my mom died, don't you?” Except it wasn't smoking, so much as _fire_. An obsession with fire.

That shuts Scott down and he mumbles an awkward apology.

Stiles makes a mental note to wash all his clothes twice, just to be safe.

)

Things calm down, leaving more time for “Stiles Time.” He knows he has Derek to thank for it, but he refuses to stoop so low.

)

Derek stops him again, just outside the makeshift path to his spot.

“Go away.” Stiles warns, but he doesn't have the energy to be mean. “Please?” He tries, putting on a pleasant expression.

“You can wash your clothes as much as you want. I can still smell it. Scott may not, but I do.” Derek's arms are crossed and his jaw is set and his eyebrows are drawn together in an angry way.

“Does it matter?” Stiles says accusingly.

“You aren't smoking cigarettes.”

“Good for you, wolfie, you get a gold star,” Stiles retorts and makes to walk into the forest. Derek's grip on his arm is just shy of excruciatingly painful.

“Be careful.” Is all Derek tells him before he lets go of Stiles' arms and is gone in a blink. Stiles looks around, chilled yet oddly comforted deep down. That night he burns a slightly smaller fire and pretends he can see his mom in the smoke.

)

“Dude, are you sure you aren't smoking?”

“Stop asking, Scott, or I'll set your bike on fire.”

Everything in the house stops; Jackson and Lydia look over with open mouths, Alison looks angry, and Derek's brow is furrowed in a way that speaks volumes for how he knows so much more than the rest of them.

The silence grows to uncomfortable and epic proportions. Stiles has to fight back the urge to reach into his pocket and feel the comfort of the cool glass of the lighter. He coughs, and returns to his doodling, and prays that everyone else will just do the same. It's only when Derek sounds off with a warning growl that they do.

)

It's the anniversary of his mother's death when Derek simply and silently follows Stiles to the spot. Stiles sets up the small bundle of twigs and kindle equally quiet, and when he sits to watch the flames, Derek sits and bumps their knees. Stiles grins and it looks feral and crazy in the light of the fire. Derek's own grin actually pales in comparison as far “homicidal maniac tinged with lunacy” goes.

After the fire goes out, Derek even walks Stiles back to his car before doing that “Edward Cullen” thing and disappearing.

)

“Dude.”

“Bike.”

“Dude.”

“Fire.” It isn't his fault that the smell of smoke is so enticing, to both himself and evidently to Derek.

“Dude,” Scott tries one last time.

“If you still have a bike waiting for you after school, count yourself very lucky.”

)

Stiles doesn't set Scott's bike on fire, because he could never do that to a friend. He does however take out his frustration on a small shrub that popped up near his spot. He grinds his teeth, trying desperately to ignore the itch he has to make something bigger, better, brighter and  _hotter_ .

)

He's lying in bed after a nice night with Derek—they watched the stars in the light of another fire, one that smelled of patchouli because he went out on a limb and bought some scent sticks—when the thought strikes him. It's dangerous but  _god_ the blaze and glow against the night sky would be the eighth world wonder; it would be the second coming; it would be the apocalypse and the revolution and it would be  _spectacular._

He sits up, suddenly unable to sleep, and pops in some Aderall to make sure he stays that way. He grabs a notebook from his desk and starts planning.

)

The decision to bring Derek in on the plan is a week long argument that Stiles has with himself.

On one hand, there's the chance that Derek could call this crossing a line, and put an immediate and fairly effective stop to his plan; Derek could tell his father, and his father would undoubtedly find the lighter—and that thought alone kept the argument at bay for a few days, because he couldn't live without the lighter.

On the other hand, Derek would be the best accomplice _ever_. He's stealthy and keen, and is essentially everything that Stiles isn't, in all the right ways.

)

The speed with which Derek agrees is surprising. However, he does tack “with one condition” onto his agreement.

“Anything, anything,” Stiles bursts, because now that he's got that yes he isn't letting go of it.

Derek takes a step closer and growls in Stiles' ear, positively dirty and filthy and _evil_ , “I get to drag you back here afterward and fuck you until the sun rises.”

)

Stiles has everything perfectly planned, which Derek isn't afraid to admit is _really_ terrifying. The jeep and the camaro are both loaded up with gasoline and kindle, sticks and leaves and old papers. Stiles has the homemade fuse in the jeep with him, _Darling_ is tucked into his pocket, and Derek is simply Derek which alone is enough.

They pull into the parking lot and Stiles can feel his face stretching into a grin, and he barely contains himself as he starts to unload the gallons of gasoline. He directs Derek to start pouring them in a circle, up on the steps and even throwing a few small, unlit Molotov cocktails. Possessing super human speed really makes the process ten times easier, and before long the entire building is more or less drenched in gasoline.

Next is to lay out specific bundles of other flammable items, so that there's a link to thread the fuse through. Derek sets it all up just as Stiles tells him to.

And then Stiles tells him to step back. He takes _Darling_ , in all its purple and gold glory, out of his pocket and kneels beside the beginning of the fuse. He grins and murmurs something along the lines of “yippie-ki-ay motherfucker” before flicking the lighter and watching the sparks dance along the grass up to the first bundle.

 

It catches on the gasoline first and the reaction is practically instant: the outside of the school steadily starts to go up in a blaze, and it slips inside and the fire dances along windows and smokes starts to go up. It isn't until Derek is shoving him towards his car that Stiles realizes they've been standing there for too long, that the school is completely engulfed in flames, and that sirens can be heard very far in the distant.

He drives casually behind Derek on the way to Derek's humble apartment in a sketchy neighborhood. He grins the whole way there, so hard that his cheeks start to hurt. _Darling_ is sitting in his pocket, safe and sound and Stiles can feel the itch coming up again, the itch to burn, but simply replays the memory over and over in his head until he's far more distracted by Derek's aggressive, violent seduction.

While they lay in the afterglow, Stiles promises himself that next time he'll take pictures.


End file.
